


can’t have you (but oh, how I want to)

by theartofbeinganerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Crushes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Except the 'Enemies' Part is Only in Jemma's Head, F/M, I Can't Believe I Forgot That Tag Earlier, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, They're Just Adorable Little Oblivious Beans, Which Are Par for the Course with Fitzsimmons, miscommunications
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartofbeinganerd/pseuds/theartofbeinganerd
Summary: On her very first day at the Academy, Jemma Simmons meets Leo Fitz, who she finds fascinating (and quite cute, though she wouldn’t ever admit it aloud), but he doesn’t seem to even want to give her the time of day or even a chance.On his very first day at the Academy, Leo Fitz meets Jemma Simmons, who he can’t get within ten feet of without forgetting how to use his words and turning roughly the shade of a tomato, so he resolves to stay away until he can find a way to deal with this little…problem.Or, a Fitzsimmons Academy AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some time ago, I promised @rosamund-pike that I would write a college AU-esque Academy AU for Fitzsimmons that was heavy on the mutual pining after I finished my fic 1 Night (+9 Months), so here it is, as promised!
> 
> * “--” indicates that the POV is switching between Jemma and Fitz

_Perfect_.

Jemma beamed as she finished settling her notebook, pens, and pencil all onto the top of the desk she’d strategically chosen at the very front of the classroom. Of course, she’d arrived a full twenty minutes before her very first class on her very first day, just to make sure that she’d have optimal seating choices.

Much to her surprised pleasure, no one had seemed to have had the same idea, and the desks were ripe for the picking – truly, though, she was also a bit disappointed. She would’ve expected this much of students at a _normal_ university, but this was SHIELD’s Science and Technology Academy, the gathering of the best and brightest minds, and _she_ was the only one with enough sense to arrive early?

Well, if _she_ was the only one willing to put in the extra effort, then she surely wouldn’t be finding the stiff competition for top of the class that she’d been expecting at the Academy. And, well, that was just _fine_ with her (though she’d never minded a little healthy competition, but perhaps that was just because she’d never found anything close to a worthy opponent).

Though, Jemma couldn’t help but think as she absently straightened her already perfectly-placed pencil, it was also a bit…disheartening. She’d hoped that if she could find anyone anywhere that was on her intellectual level, someone to _finally_ talk to who would not just listen to her, but _understand_ her, it would be at the Academy.

But, apparently, not even the gathering of the best and the brightest minds contained the mind that would be a match for hers, unfortunately.

About five minutes before class was due to begin, the lecture hall finally began to fill up as other students trickled in. By the time their professor arrived at the front of the hall, Jemma had forgotten all about her disappointment and was instead filled with nervous excitement, practically vibrating with it in her seat as she waited for class to truly begin.

She listened with rapt attention as the professor introduced himself as Agent Patterson, and then began a quick run-through of what they could expect to learn in his chemistry class over the course of the first semester. However, it was obvious that the younger man was new at this, quite possibly even in his first year of teaching, and he seemed to be more nervous than Jemma was. He kept stumbling over his words, and fidgeting with the chalk that he was using to write examples of what they could expect to learn on the blackboard.

And so, when he made a mistake, a minor miscalculation, Jemma bit her tongue as she was filled with a desperate urge to correct him; he seemed to be having a tough enough time as it was, and she didn’t want to make it any worse on him (plus, no one else in the class seemed to even have noticed his slip-up).

“That’s wrong.”

Startled at the sudden voice coming from somewhere behind her, Jemma watched for a brief moment as Agent Patterson froze, listened as a hush fell over the hall. Then, she twisted almost completely around in her seat to find where the young voice with the familiar accent had come from – and she wasn’t the only one, the other students around her swiveling their heads around to find the source.

Searching the sea of faces in the rows of desks behind her, it didn’t take nearly as long as she’d expected to find him; after all, he was making it quite easy, with the way that he was sinking down low in his chair and his pasty skin was flushing bright red.

“What…what was that?” poor Patterson finally managed to ask, seeming to have finally regained his bearings.

“Your calculations, they’re…um…they’re wrong,” the boy explained haltingly, nodding in the direction of the blackboard, causing Patterson to whirl back around and take another look at his scrawled handwriting.

“What are you…” Patterson trailed off, then he gave a slightly awkward chuckle. “Ah, would you look at that, you’re right. Thank you, Cadet…”

“Fitz,” the boy mumbled, his voice so low that Jemma had to strain to hear it.

And with that, Patterson picked his introductory lecture back up, and everyone focused on him once more, the interruption all-but forgotten.

Everyone, that was, except for Jemma.

So unlike her, she was ignoring a professor in favor of studying this boy, _Fitz_ , with wide, curious eyes. But, in her defense, she just couldn’t seem to look away – Fitz was round-faced with youth, his curls unkempt and his eyes still huge with disbelief, as though even he had been caught off-guard by his own voice. The blush in his cheeks was still present, now a soft pink, and it served as nice contrast to the bright blue of his irises.

She was so consumed in her careful study of this Fitz, in fact, that she didn’t even notice at first that the blue eyes had locked with her own brown ones for the space of a full moment.

It was only once the skin of his face and neck flared in another deep blush that it finally occurred to Jemma that she’d been caught openly staring, and she spun back around in her chair so quickly that she almost fell right out of it.

As she anxiously hooked her hands around her neck and took deep, even breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart, Jemma found, much to her surprise, that her own neck was currently being warmed by a blush.

\--

 _That was so_ dumb _. What were you thinking?!_

Dropping his head onto his folded arms with a low groan as he mentally berated himself, Fitz was caught between being unable to believe that he’d already made such a fool of himself only a half an hour into his first day at SHIELD Academy, and being surprised that he hadn’t done so sooner.

Why couldn’t he have just let the little mistake go? It hadn’t been hurting anybody, and he’d only served to embarrass both himself and their anxious professor, Agent Patterson. Truly, he hadn’t been _intending_ to just blurt out that Patterson was wrong, but the words had slipped out before he’d thought them through, and suddenly the entire class had been staring right at him –

 _So much for flying under the radar_.

Releasing another muffled groan, Fitz gave a dejected shake of his head against his forearms. This was going to be like university all over again, wasn’t it? He was going to be singled-out as a know-it-all kid that all the other, much older, students sneered and rolled their eyes at, whispering amongst themselves about him. He’d _hoped_ that the Academy would be different, but he was sure that he’d ruined that chance with two simple words.

And _then_ , as if all of that wasn’t enough, then he’d seen that girl in the front of the hall staring at him, and he’d just gaped at her like some sort of _fish_.

In the brief glance that he’d managed to catch of her, Fitz had been able to tell that she was quite young, possibly even around his own age, with curious brown eyes and pretty pale skin that had only gotten prettier when flushed with a rosy blush.

Now, lifting his head slightly from his desk, he peered over the wall of his folded arms to find her sitting tensely in her seat, fiddling with an uncapped pen and occasionally taking notes in her notebook with it. He could no longer see her face, but he did have an unobstructed view of the gentle waves of her hair where it fell over her shoulders and onto her desk as she leaned over it. Absently, she flicked the stray locks back, only to have them fall forward once more a moment later.

Feeling like a right creep, Fitz dropped his head fully back onto his arms, and gave a soft moan of despair. Of course, the only person he’d ever happened upon that was his age and quite possibly just as smart as him, not to mention one of the prettiest girls he’d ever laid eyes on, and he’d already mucked it all up.

Why had he _ever_ been so foolish as to think that the Academy would be different from the rest of his life?

\--

Despite the lingering embarrassment of being caught staring at Fitz, Jemma was eager to get a chance to actually talk with him, and she’d been anxiously awaiting the end of class ever since (but she’d still taken notes, of course – just because she was excited to talk to Fitz, didn’t mean that she wasn’t focusing on what Agent Patterson was teaching them).

Time seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, but finally, the sharp ringing of the bell echoed through the lecture hall, and Jemma hastily began stuffing her things into her backpack, wanting to make sure that she was waiting outside the hall to catch Fitz on his way out.

She one of the first ones out into the hallway, and she hastily stepped to the side, bouncing nervously on her toes and clasping her hands together as she searched the faces passing by her as they streamed out of the room. As more and more students brushed past her, however, she began to worry that he had somehow slipped by without her notice.

But, then, just as it seemed that everyone had left the lecture hall and disappeared off to their next class, Fitz came hurrying out of the room, keeping his head down and his eyes focused on his scuffed trainers.

Breathing a short sigh of relief, Jemma felt her lips curving into a beaming grin as she hurried after him and called, “Fitz? Can we talk a moment?”

He stopped short so quickly that she nearly crashed into his overly-stuffed backpack, and then before she could even attempt to regain her bearings, he’d spun around to face her. “Uh…” He blinked rapidly a couple of times, the expression slowly forming on his face almost akin to horror.

Then, without another word, he hastily turned back around and sped off, easily becoming lost in the throng of bodies in the narrow hallway.

Jemma was left standing there, mouth hanging open in utter bewilderment and the slightest twinge of affront.

\--

“Oh my god. Oh my _god_.”

The dull sound of Fitz’s skull lightly thumping against the rough brick wall wasn’t nearly enough to drown out the stream of horrified criticism falling from his lips. He’d just done that. He couldn’t _believe_ he’d just done that.

The girl from the front of the room had tried to stop him in the hall, had asked to _talk_ to him, because apparently he hadn’t mucked things up as awfully as he’d thought he had – yet, at least. He hadn’t even known it was her, at first, because in his wildest dreams he never would've pegged the girl as English, as someone from back home. Then, he’d turned around and seen her smile that could rival the sun and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and he’d…

He’d forgotten every word in the English language.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” he snapped at himself in a harsh whisper, dropping his forehead to the bricks that made up the back of the building containing Patterson’s chemistry class. He’d gotten out of there as soon as possible, hurrying to hide around the back after he’d just up and _left_ the girl in the hallway.

Truthfully, Fitz had never been the best with social interaction, but this was extreme even for him; usually, he could _at least_ remember how to form words (most of the time, the words were even in the form of sarcastic comments, directed at his much less intelligent and… _enlightened_ peers).

Something about this girl, though, just seemed to throw him for a loop. He knew that it likely had something to do with the fact that she was the youngest-looking cadet that he’d come across in his handful of days on the Academy campus before classes started, which could possibly mean that she was as smart, or even _smarter_ , than him.

But, Fitz also had a sneaking suspicion that it also might be due to the fact that, in addition to her obvious intelligence, she was just so…so…

Was there a word for it? Because ‘pretty’ just didn’t seem enough anymore, not after seeing her up close.

Dropping his head forward to rest against the wall, Fitz groaned pitifully, and did his best to talk himself out of simply quitting the Academy and getting on the first plane back to Glasgow. After all, just because he’d made a fool of himself in front of _one_ girl, that didn’t mean his entire career with SHIELD would go the same way, did it?

And besides, there’s was the chance that this girl wasn’t even as smart as he was giving her credit for, that he was blowing the situation out of proportion, as he tended to do when he was nervous. Maybe, she’d even been stopping him after class to ask what the mistake in Patterson’s calculations had been, unable to figure it out for herself.

Yeah, Fitz thought to himself decisively, whoever this girl was, she couldn’t _nearly_ be impressive as he’d made her out to be in his thoughts. He was sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

She’d tried her best not to, she truly had, but after finding herself quite abruptly left alone in a hallway, after having been essentially _ditched_ , Jemma had ended up worrying herself sick trying to figure out just what she’d done to upset Fitz so much that he’d done such a thing. It had been taken over her mind so fully, in fact, that she hadn’t even been able to pay much attention in microbiology, which had followed chemistry that day and was a class that she’d been looking forward to since she’d signed up for it months ago.

That night, she had gone back to her dorm room and spent an embarrassing amount of time going back over the entire chemistry class and her brief conversation (if it could even be called that) with Fitz, but she hadn’t been able to find a single thing that she’d done wrong.

Sure, he’d caught her staring at him across the lecture hall, but _that_ couldn’t truly be that bad, could it?

So, in the end, Jemma had come to the only reasonable conclusion: that he must have been late to his next class or to a meeting or _something_ , so late that he couldn’t even stop to offer her an explanation or apology. His hasty retreat _had_ to have just been a fluke thing, something that she’d misinterpreted and shouldn’t be taking so personally.

The realization had served to make her feel immensely better about the whole thing, and she was now excited for tomorrow rather than apprehensive, ready and prepared her next chemistry class, where she would be seeing Fitz again for the first time since the hallway incident.

Of course, Jemma _could_ have just let the whole thing go and moved on, focusing solely on her classes and eventually securing her spot at the top of the class, but she was determined now to at least get Fitz to have a real conversation with her. Truthfully, he had only become _more_ interesting to her since the first time that she’d heard him speak (and her fascination had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his face was nicely symmetrical and the way that he blushed made her heart beat unevenly).

However, even though she had _planned_ on having another day to prepare herself before she was to see Fitz again, her planning process was quite abruptly and rather rudely interrupted when her gaze fell upon none other than _Fitz_ in her History of SHIELD class. She’d been doing a cursory glance around the lecture hall before the period officially began, just to see if she’d recognized any of the cadets from her handful of other classes, but she’d stopped halfway through at the sight of him, hunched over a desk at the very back of the room with eyes pointedly turned down.

For a moment, Jemma wasn’t sure what to do; she hadn’t _planned_ to see him again so soon, and was caught very much off-guard at his sudden reappearance. Which was all quite absurd, really, because _of course_ they were bound to have more than one class in common – why hadn’t the thought even occurred to her?

But, after taking another handful of moments to regain her composure and considering pretending that she hadn’t seen him and still waiting until tomorrow to talk to him, Jemma decided that she could easily _alter_ her plan just slightly; she didn’t necessarily _have_ to adhere to it quite so strictly. After all, it was just a day earlier than she’d been expecting, and plus, this might even work better – the time set aside for lunch followed this period, and that presented her with the opportunity to ask him to sit with her, and then they could talk even for longer than a hallway conversation would allow for.

Smiling in satisfaction, she opened her notebook to a fresh sheet of paper just as a grouchy-looking older man stepped in front of the blackboard. She was _also_ , coincidentally, very much prepared to start standing out, after having spent a fair amount of time studying everything that she could on the history of the organization that she was someday soon set to join.

\--

Fitz was _quite_ aware of the fact that he was staring at the back of the head belonging to the girl that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about since chemistry class the other day, but he also couldn’t seem to get himself to look away, either. He wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, the fact that he _had_ been thinking about her with alarming frequency in the past couple of days, or that he _was_ staring so blatantly at her and was almost likely to be caught if she turned around again.

Ever since that chemistry class, the girl seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth – he hadn’t caught even the smallest of glances of her (not to say that he was deliberately _looking_ for her). Briefly, he’d even given into the absurd thought that he’d simply dreamed her and the whole awkward situation up in his first day jitters.

But, Fitz had never in his life been _that_ lucky, and now, there she was, right there in front of him.

So, he was doing his best to seem small and unobtrusive, bound and determined _not_ to start shouting out every error their professor may or may not make – he didn’t need to make a fool out of himself _twice_ in a matter of just a few days, he should at least wait until next week before he opened his big mouth again.

Fortunately (or not), that didn’t seem to be a problem, though, given that the man that had introduced himself as Professor Vaughn seemed content to spend the whole period just droning on and on. In fact, it wasn’t long before Fitz felt himself begin to fade out and even start to drowse slightly, though he did feel a lick of shame about the whole thing.

But, it wasn’t too far into class when he was brought back to full, albeit startled awareness. The sound of the crisp English accent that he could still hear ringing in his ears, calling his name down the noisy hallway, cut straight through the sleepy fog that had settled over his brain, causing him to nearly topple straight out of his chair.

Blinking a bit as he steadied himself, Fitz’s gaze automatically zeroed in on where he’d glimpsed her sitting earlier, and he found that sure enough, her hand was raised above her head. Near as he could tell, she was currently reciting information on the founding of SHIELD, as though she was reading a passage straight from a textbook or something.

They’d yet to receive books of any sort for this class, however, and with a quick glance, Fitz could see that Professor Vaughn was looking just as shell-shocked by the sheer volume of information coming from the girl. When she finally finished her long-winded statement of facts, the professor was quiet for a beat, then he cleared his throat and said haltingly, “Very good, yes, thank you, Cadet…”

“Simmons,” she filled in helpfully, and with that, Fitz now had a name to put to the girl that he’d managed to convince himself couldn’t _possibly_ be as smart as he was imagining that she was.

Much to his horror, she was, in fact, even _smarter_.

\--

Feeling quite pleased with having found the perfect opportunity to display her vast knowledge on the beginnings of SHIELD and its founders (she was especially fond of Peggy Carter), Jemma had spent the rest of class jotting down the few things Professor Vaughn mentioned that she hadn’t already memorized, and fighting the urge to glance back over her shoulder and see if Fitz looked impressed at all.

Now, the bell signaling the end of the period had finally rung, and Jemma had hurried out of the room in order to once more wait outside in the hallway to catch up with Fitz. She was _positive_ that things would be different this time around, especially after she’d been given the chance to show off her own intelligence a bit, to show him that _she_ was worth getting to know.

Just as she was mentally going over possible topics for them to discuss over lunch (what his area of expertise was, where he’d gotten his PhD – or PhDs, if he was like her, what he thought of the Academy so far), she noticed Fitz just exiting the classroom. Just like it had been the previous time, his gaze directed downward, focused on his shoes rather than looking ahead of himself to make sure he wasn’t bumping into anyone.

Feeling an eager smile tugging at her lips, Jemma rushed to catch up with him as he hurried down the hall, calling excitedly, “Fitz!”

She waited a moment, very narrowly missing a small group of older cadets just leaving a classroom further down the hall and very obviously not paying attention to where they were going. However, Fitz didn’t stop or even slow down, and she wondered if, perhaps, he hadn’t heard her over the din.

So, picking up her pace a bit to follow more closely along behind him as he dodged around other students and raising her voice slightly, she simply tried again. “Fitz!”

It was only once she noticed his shoulders tensing and the way that his footsteps briefly faltered before he began walking so quickly that he was almost jogging away that it finally occurred to her that he’d heard her perfectly – he was just choosing to ignore her instead.

And with that realization, Jemma abruptly gave up her attempt to catch up with Fitz, allowing him to get far enough down the hall that he disappeared completely.

\--

Feeling truly _awful_ and horrible and like the worst person to have ever lived, Fitz didn’t stop until he’d exited the building and could drop heavily back to rest against the brick wall beside the doors, closing his eyes and groaning in defeat. However, quickly trying to soothe the guilt that was gnawing at his insides and making his stomach twist with nausea, he told himself firmly that in the long run, it was better this way.

Despite how foolish he’d been acting as of late, Fitz was no fool, and he knew that if he were to talk to Simmons now, he was inevitably going to muck it all up and ruin any chance he had of ever talking to her again. He may not have known her all that well (or at all, really), but from what he’d observed already, he just _knew_ deep down inside that they truly could get on, if given the chance.

But, in order for that to happen, he first had to find the right words to say to her, something impressive enough that she wouldn’t just laugh in his face as soon as they left his mouth. He _had_ to show her that he wasn’t just some loud-mouthed kid that corrected professors and refused to talk to his peers. He had to prove to her that they were one in the same, the youngest cadets on the Academy campus and, apparently, with a great love of knowledge.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about Simmons, something that gave Fitz the impression that this – and _she_ – was important, something further than the fact that they seemed to have things in common. And, because of that, he had to make sure that everything went according to plan.

So, placing the utmost importance on said plan, he made a quick detour across campus and ducked briefly into the cafeteria to grab a lunch on the go, then headed back to his dorm room. There, he immediately got started on coming up with the perfect thing to say to impress Simmons.

Once he found it, Fitz assured himself that _he’d_ be the one catching up with Simmons in the hallway and striking up a conversation, and the very idea had a smile tugging at his lips.

\--

The following day, the time that Jemma had _originally_ allotted to trying to speak with Fitz again, she instead found herself silently stewing in chemistry, unable to figure out just what it was that she’d _done_ to deserve the way that Fitz treated her. Initially, she’d been upset and hurt about the whole thing, wondering what it was about her that seemed to repel or even repulse Fitz. Now, however, after spending all night thinking it over, she was simply _angry_.

She just didn’t understand it – everyone she’d ever met seemed to have found her perfectly lovely (if not a bit strange, what with her above average intelligence, but that was to be expected), and Fitz hadn’t even given her a _chance_ to show him how lovely she was! It was incredibly rude of him, really, and Jemma couldn’t help but wonder where he’d gotten manners like _that_ from.  

Just as much, though, she couldn’t seem to figure out why the whole thing bothered her the way that it did (and no, it didn’t have anything to with his symmetrical features and cute little blush either). In the grand scheme of things, she didn’t even really _know_ Fitz, so his opinion of her shouldn’t matter in the slightest. Sure, she’d found herself fascinated by the first person she’d met who could keep up with her intellectually but was around her age, but…

Before she could give anymore thought to the wide range of questions surrounding her feelings about the whole situation, however, she quickly returned her focus back in on Agent Patterson, raising her hand to answer the question that he’d just posed to the room at large (just because she wasn’t paying _full_ attention didn’t mean that she wasn’t still intent on learning something).

Then, she heard Fitz’s voice coming from the back of the room, his tone clearly rushed as he hurried to answer the question first.

Jemma’s eyes grew wide in complete surprise and utter disbelief – he was sitting right there, just a couple of rows behind her, so surely he’d seen her hand raised patiently. Perhaps he just hadn’t been paying much attention either?

However, it became quite clear that he was paying attention and just didn’t _care_ , as it only continued to happen all throughout class. And, to make matters worse, when Jemma turned around in her seat to throw a fierce glare at him to show how much she didn’t appreciate his actions, he didn’t even _bother_ to meet her gaze. Instead, he seemed to simply look straight through her as he kept his eyes firmly on the front of the room and Patterson.

Truly annoyed now, Jemma came to the sharp and sudden conclusion that the reason Fitz had been avoiding her and blowing her off was because he wasn’t _interested_ in making friends, as she had been. In fact, it seemed as though he was taking the fight for top of the class as seriously as _she_ was, and he’d correctly singled her out as competition. She hadn’t expected it to start quite so soon, but she was just fine with it.

If Fitz wanted a rival, then he’d _have_ a rival.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Super brief mention of underage drinking in this chapter

Ever since Fitz had chosen her as a rival a couple of weeks ago, Jemma had been doing her very best to _crush_ him and show that he’d made a mistake in challenging her, and her best had always been _quite_ impressive, if she did say so herself. She made sure to raise her hand for every question, sometimes even before the professor had finished speaking, and often volunteered to go up to the board to write out equations or solve problems. She hurried to be the first finished with the rather simple chemistry experiments they’d started with, or the occasional tests that Professor Vaughn handed out.

Unfortunately, Fitz seemed to be having all of the same ideas as her, given that he was doing much of the same just as often as she was, and it had Jemma completely and utterly _frustrated_. Sure, she’d been singled out as competition before (many times, in fact), but she was used to each and every one of them giving up after only a short time, finding her intellect far superior to their own.

But, Fitz was _different_. He could quite easily keep up with her (and in some cases, though she was loathe to admit it, he was _better_ than her – but only in _some_ cases), and she often found herself feeling far out of her depth. She’d never been around anyone as smart as she was, and she found the competition thrilling just as much as she found it irritating, but…

Well, truthfully, Jemma couldn’t help but wish that…well, she wasn’t quite sure, maybe just that they could actually _talk_ sometime, beyond fighting the other to be the first to answer a question or speaking over each other during class discussions. After all, she could only imagine how fascinating it would be, the things that they could talk about that she’d never been able to with other people, always having to worry about whether the person she was conversing with was comprehending more than fifty percent of what she was saying.

If anyone was ever going to understand the full one hundred percent, if there was ever someone that she wasn’t going to have to hold back for, that could keep up with her, it would be Fitz. And to be fighting with him all the time felt a bit like…well, a waste, really.

However, Jemma couldn’t _force_ Fitz to want to be her friend or even her acquaintance, so she’d just have to stick with being enemies and continue to work on crushing him with her brilliance, no matter how wasteful it was.

At least it was something she was quite good at.

\--

Fitz had spent the past couple of weeks working himself as hard as he possibly could and then some, doing everything feasible to seem somehow impressive to Simmons (who he’d found out was named _Jemma_ Simmons about a week ago when he’d glimpsed her name written at the top of her History of SHIELD quiz on Vaughn’s desk), but she only kept proving to be even _more_ impressive.

Every time that he gave the answer to a question, Simmons was right there answering the next, more complicated one. Every time that he spoke up in a class discussion, she was butting in to give her two cents, finishing his thought while also improving on it. Every time that he went up to the board to solve an equation, she was already out of her seat by the time that he was finished, solving the next one in even less time than he’d taken for his.

As the days dragged on and on, Fitz was growing more and more worried that he’d never hold up against Simmons, and that she wouldn’t ever give him the time of day if he couldn’t offer her anything but his obviously inferior intellect.

Of course, he could _try_ to make friends with someone else at the Academy, but after spending all of this time focusing on Simmons…anyone else there simply seemed to pale in comparison. He had classes with most of the other first year cadets, and had come across a few of the upper classmen, but he could already tell that _no one_ was quite on the level that he and Simmons were, and he’d never been the best at connecting with people below his IQ.

Sure, he could probably _try_ , but he’d found no one that really seemed worth the effort – other than Simmons, that was.

If he could just find something undeniably smart to say to her, then he could open the door to them having an actual conversation, and…well, he wasn’t sure where it would go from there, but any future where Jemma Simmons actually acknowledged him as an equal was one that he’d gladly accept.

Still, Fitz was quickly coming to the conclusion that doing so in one of their shared classes just wasn’t going to work the way they were going at the moment, so perhaps he was going to have to find some _other_ situation to try and prove himself.

But, what _kind_ of situation?

Startled out of his deep thinking by the bell ringing, signaling the end of another History of SHIELD class, Fitz quickly began gathering his things and stuffing them carelessly into his backpack. When the sound of Simmons’s now familiar lilting voice drifted up to him, though, he paused, then automatically glanced up to exactly where he’d noted she was sitting earlier that period.

She was now standing beside her seat, the strap of her bag slung over her shoulder as she chatted with another cadet (Fitz didn’t know her name, but he did know that they had mechanical engineering together). The girl was holding out a slip of paper to Simmons, explaining, “I mean, we all figured that we deserved a party after surviving our first couple of weeks at SHIELD Academy.”

(To Fitz, that just sounded an awful lot like an excuse to _have_ a party.)

“Oh yes, it’s certainly worth celebrating,” Simmons agreed, “where is it again?”

“In the Boiler Room,” the other girl answered. “It starts at eight, but no one ever shows up when it’s just started, so come whenever.”

“I will, thank you.” Simmons seemed rather enthusiastic about the idea, nodding and smiling brightly as she accepted the paper, and Fitz was so distracted by the way that her face lit up when she smiled like that, it took him a full thirty seconds to notice that Simmons was now looking up at him curiously.

Blinking away his distraction and feeling fire begin to spread across his cheeks, Fitz hurried down the row of desks at the back of the room (his preferred seating area) and out of the room as swiftly as possible.

\--

Practically vibrating with nerves, Jemma tossed yet another discarded potential outfit onto the tiny twin bed in her dorm room. She’d spent the past half hour or so trying to decide on what to wear to the party that her fellow cadet, Nunez, had invited her to that night in the Boiler Room, with little success.

She’d heard of the Boiler Room, of course, in passing and in whispers in the hallways, but she hadn’t actually been there yet; there wasn’t much reason to if she didn’t have someone to go _with_ , after all. However, now that she’d been invited by Nunez, who she’d had brief conversations with in the halls and once or twice at the library, she figured that was a reason to go and check the place out, see if it lived up to the hype.

Still, she couldn’t help how nervous the whole situation was making her; she knew that she always stood out in crowds there at the Academy, whether she wanted to or not, with most of the other cadets being at least a handful of years older than her. She wanted to fit in (didn’t everyone?), but also to stand out as the smartest (of course), and it was a rather fine line that she was doing her best not to cross, though it wasn’t exactly _easy_.

Finally, Jemma ended up deciding on a casual outfit of jeans and a nice blouse, not wanting to look as though she was _trying_ too hard not to be labeled as a child that it was obvious. Hopefully, it _also_ wouldn’t be obvious how much thought and effort she’d had to put into the simple outfit.

By the time that Jemma arrived at the Boiler Room (using the directions that Nunez had given her earlier that day), exactly forty-five minutes after eight o’clock, her nerves had barely dissipated, and only seemed to surge back to the surface as she hesitated outside the heavy metal door.

But, she was nothing if not stubborn, so she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down a bit, then reached for the handle, tugging the door open and slipping inside.

The vast room was dimly lit, filled with pounding music, flashing lights, and the buzz of dozens of conversations taking place all at once. Overwhelmed, Jemma simply stood there for a moment, observing the party in full swing from above, taking it all in with wide eyes and without the first clue as to where to begin.

She was quick to remind herself, though, that she was Jemma Simmons, child prodigy and the smartest cadet at SHIELD Academy (what Fitz thought be damned), and she could go to a _party_ of all things without losing her cool.

Keeping that firmly in mind, Jemma held her head high as she descended the stairs into the Boiler Room, entering the fray waiting for her at the bottom. As she made her way further into the room, she was surprised to find herself almost constantly jostled by the bodies around her, and eventually decided to hold her arms up, elbows out, to preemptively keep from getting shoved into yet another person.

Despite the tightly-packed crowd and low lights, she noticed a couple of cadets that she knew from shared classes, but none that she knew well enough to actually want to stop and talk to, and it wasn’t long before she ended up with a barely touched drink at one of the tables off to the side, wishing that she’d stayed in her room for the night.

Apparently, the Boiler Room _wasn’t_ everything that it was cracked up to be, as Jemma wasn’t finding it very fun at all.

Just as she was considering simply slipping away (it wasn’t as though she’d be missed, after all) and going back to her room to study for her next test instead, the crowd of people that she had a perfect view of from her table shifted, and she managed to catch a glimpse of _Fitz_ just entering the Boiler Room.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jemma sat up straighter and tilted her head to keep him in her line of sight, trying to decide what to do about her rival showing up at the party as well. And, as possible actions to take began running through her mind, all thoughts of leaving were promptly replaced.

\--

 Fitz was already feeling incredibly out of place by the time he reached the bottom step leading into the Boiler Room (which had taken him forever to find, and he likely wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t come across a gaggle of older cadets whom he’d figured right were heading there themselves, and he’d been able to simply follow them), his hands wringing and his palms sweating as he glanced around.

 _This was such a dumb idea_ , he thought to himself, making a face as he started attempting to weave his way into the throng of people. But, it would be even dumber to show up and then promptly leave, so he resolved to stick it out for just a bit before making his retreat back to the safety of his room.

Figuring that the bar was a safe place to start, he wandered his way over to it – just as he became aware of the feeling of eyes on him from somewhere nearby. Glancing up hurriedly, he craned his neck around a bit, only to find _Simmons_ watching him from a seat at a little table across the room.

Making unplanned eye contact with her for the second time in a day, Fitz hastily looked away, even though _she_ was the whole reason that he was even there in the first place. He had, however, managed to note through his awkward nerves and brief flash of terror that Simmons was sitting by herself.

It was utterly confusing to him – who there _wouldn’t_ want to talk to Simmons? Who _wouldn’t_ want to be her friend, to pick her brain, to even simply sit there and listen to her talk? It baffled the mind, really, and Fitz wished that he could just find the right words to go over there and impress her, so that _he_ could be the lucky one to finally have the conversation that he’d wanted to have with her for weeks now.

Unfortunately, he was still running a complete blank on what those words _could_ be, and his jaw tensed in frustration with himself as he stood at the bar, waiting while the bartender made drinks for a group of people that had already been waiting when he’d arrived. There he was, presented with the perfect opportunity to talk to Simmons outside of class, in a nice, neutral environment where maybe she wouldn’t knock him flat with her brilliance, and he _still_ couldn’t get his tongue to work and words to form.

 _So much for being a genius_.

Feeling utterly ridiculous and like a right idiot for coming all the way to talk to her and not being able to do even such a simple thing, it was at that moment that he heard a voice above the overloud beat of the music, right at his elbow. “Hi Fitz.”

Fitz knew immediately that it was Simmons, and his whole body froze in response as he lost not only the ability to speak, but also, it seemed, to _breathe_. His eyes grew round in horror and his hands clenched tightly around the edge of the bar in front of him as he took a moment to try and gather himself.

_Find **something** to say!_

But, despite his mental shouts at himself to do _something_ , Fitz still didn’t have a single thing in mind to say as he forced himself to finally turn and face her, his mouth hanging open dumbly. Her eyebrows were raised almost hopefully, but the way her teeth were digging into her bottom lip suggested that she was anxious about something. Fitz had to stop himself from blurting out something likely very stupid that would only cause her to think he was just that, _stupid_ , and not worth speaking to, the exact opposite of what he wanted.

Simmons’s brow was beginning to furrow the longer he continued to stare blankly at her, and desperate to stop the inevitable, Fitz desperately started, “Uh…”

“What can I get you?”

They both looked over at the bartender’s question, and there was a beat before Fitz spit out, “Nothing,” then turned on his heel and rushed away, elbowing his way through the packed bodies in the room. The entire way from the steps of the Boiler Room to his dorm across campus, he had the words _coward_ and _idiot_ running through his mind, but as finally reached his room and swung the door shut behind him with a bit more force than necessary, Fitz reasoned to himself that it just hadn’t been the right time yet.

He’d get it right eventually – he _had_ to.


	4. Chapter 4

Even as she made her way speedily through the pop quiz that Agent Patterson had handed out at the beginning of that day’s chemistry class, Jemma made sure to keep an eye on the aisle beside her desk, which she knew Fitz would have to walk down when he’d finished with his pop quiz in order to drop it off on Patterson’s desk. She had almost completed the rather difficult quiz, and was beginning to allow smugness to spread through her, nearly positive now that she’d be the first to hand it in.

Ever since Fitz had so rudely _dismissed_ her in her attempt to make conversation with him in the Boiler Room exactly two weeks and three days ago, Jemma had stepped up her game and had been doing her level best to destroy Fitz (academically, of course – she didn’t wish any _actual_ harm on him because that would just be cruel). There was no more giving him chance after chance and the benefit of the doubt and thinking that they could possibly be friends – Fitz clearly wasn’t at the Academy to make friends, and Jemma was grateful for the reminder that she wasn’t either; she was there to add to her already vast knowledge, to secure a career working for SHIELD, and to, if all went to plan, save the world someday.

Still, she had to admit that it was a bit lonely, spending all of her evenings holed up in her room while all of the other cadets (other than Fitz, obviously, since he didn’t seem to _need_ friends or social contact) seemed to be out having fun, going to the Boiler Room or studying together in groups. But, she had plenty of homework to do, which was a good enough distraction from the fact that she had nothing resembling a friend on campus; it wasn’t the first time, after all, that she hadn’t been able to connect with her peers, and it likely wouldn’t be the last time.

With a flourish, Jemma completed the last question on the quiz, and barely gave herself time to set aside her pencil before she hastily stood from her desk – and nearly knocked right into Fitz.

For a long moment, he gaped at her, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as though he’d never seen her before, then began backing away quickly like she had the _plague_ or something. Jemma felt a flicker of annoyance at the sight, absently curling her fingers more tightly around the finished quiz still held in her hand. She almost apologized or said ‘excuse me’ or even said something snappish about looking where he was going, but she held her tongue – if Fitz wouldn’t even talk to her, then _she_ wouldn’t talk to him.

It was petty, sure, but they were _enemies_ , and enemies didn’t _apologize_ to each other for anything, even accidentally (supposedly, at least) running into each other.

So, Jemma simply turned wordlessly on her heel and strode right up to Patterson’s desk, placing her completed quiz down triumphantly on the corner of it. He rewarded her with that impressed, slightly caught off-guard smile that he always seemed to be shooting at her (and Fitz, but Jemma refused to acknowledge that) whenever she answered questions or completed experiments or spoke up to offer her opinion in discussions, nodding his thanks as she turned to head back to her desk.

On her way there, she caught sight of Fitz once more out of the corner of her eye, who was now giving her a wide berth, clearly afraid to bump into her again. Jemma wanted to snap at him that she wasn’t _diseased_ and to stop acting like a child, but once more she clamped her mouth shut to stop the words, because doing so would make a scene and would only serve to make _her_ look childish in the end.

Instead, she simply went back to her desk and got started on studying the next chapter in their textbook (which she’d already read, of course, after they’d received the books, but it didn’t hurt to brush up on what to expect next). By the time that she’d finished going over the chapter and taking notes on its contents, jotting down possible experiments and assignments that they might be given over the next couple of weeks, the rest of the class had finally finished with their quizzes as well. As Patterson called for everyone’s attention, Jemma closed both her textbook and notebook, doing just as he’d asked and giving him her full attention.

\--

In his usual seat at the back of the room, Fitz was sitting at his desk with his head down on his folded arms, wishing (as he so often was these days) to disappear, or for a hole to open up beneath him and swallow him whole, he wasn’t going to be picky.

He’d already been gifted with so many opportunities to say _something_  to Simmons, but so far hadn’t received the gift of the perfect thing to _say_ to impress her. Almost two _months_ had passed now since that first day at the Academy, and he was still no closer to stringing enough words into an impressive enough sentence to secure Simmons as an acquaintance, possibly even (if he was lucky) as a friend.

Fitz was afraid that the longer he waited, the further and further away Simmons was getting, along with any chance that he had at either, but the words just weren’t _coming_ (a frustrating first for him).

And, as if he needed a reminder of that fact, he’d now run straight into her, and hadn’t even been able to get his voice to work so that he could say he was _sorry_ for being a bumbling idiot?

He released a low groan of despair, which was muffled by his arms and his desk, and wondered where that hole in the ground was when he needed it.

Too preoccupied with the chorus of voices in his head singing his inner self-loathing, Fitz only lifted his head slightly when Patterson called for attention, just enough to show that he was listening and hadn’t fallen asleep in class (he saved that for Vaughn’s History of SHIELD).

However, it wasn’t until he heard his own name that he actually starting listening to the words coming out of Patterson’s mouth, and when it was followed closely by “and Simmons”, Fitz sat up ramrod straight in his seat, wondering wildly what was happening, why her name had been mentioned alongside his, and why hadn’t he been _listening_?

At the front of the room, Simmons had tensed in her seat, and even from this distance, Fitz could see her squared shoulders and rigid posture. He panicked a bit at the sight (did she already hate him? He hadn’t even _tried_ talk to her yet, why did she hate him? _Oh god_ , what had he done wrong?), but he was distracted from it when she stood up and calmly (if a bit mechanically) gathered her things, going to stand off to the side of the room, where Fitz noticed that there were other cadets already paired up.

There was a beat of silence, then all in the same moment, every set of eyes seemed to turn to Fitz, and his cheeks flushed bright red as he stood up so hurriedly from his desk that his foot caught on the leg of his chair, causing him to trip slightly and hastily catch himself on the desk. With everyone watching him and his skin painted the color of a ripe tomato, he threw his things together and jogged up to the front of the room, hesitating only slightly before joining Simmons.

They stood awkwardly and uncomfortably beside each other (or maybe that was just Fitz projecting his own feelings onto Simmons) for a time, but finally Patterson had finished pairing everyone up, and he turned to face them all as he explained, “The partner that you received today will be your lab partner until the end of the semester, so…well, get comfortable, I suppose.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he informed them quickly, “When you arrive to class tomorrow, you’ll no longer have single desks, and instead have lab benches, so come see me first thing for new seating assignments.”

Fitz could feel his heartbeat picking up speed and his lungs working double-time to keep him breathing, his thoughts a simultaneous jumble of, “oh _no_ ”, and the abrupt realization that he’d been presented with the _perfect_ chance to impress Simmons – they’d be spending a whole class period together once a week for the rest of the semester, after all.

Now, all he had to do was find those elusive words to say to her; a conversation with Simmons was closer than it ever had been before.

\--

Positively fuming and not quite able to keep herself from internally freaking out at the fact that she might have to spend the next couple of months partnered up with _Fitz_ of all people, Jemma waited until the bell signaling the end of the period (which had, fortunately, closely followed Patterson’s brief lab partner speech) to stalk right up to the desk at the front of the room and say bluntly, “Sir, I need another partner.”

Patterson, who was perched once more behind his desk after standing to give the assignments, frowned deeply up at her, looking absolutely bewildered, as though he couldn’t imagine there being a problem with his pairings, which only served to make Jemma more upset. “Oh? And…um, why is that then, Cadet Simmons? Is there something wrong?”

Jemma chewed her lip, figuring that she probably shouldn’t tell a teacher that Fitz was her rival, because it _did_ sound quite juvenile out loud and she was trying her hardest to be taken seriously there at the Academy (and in life in general, which had always been something of a frustrating issue). Instead, she simply replied, “I just… _can’t_ work with Fitz,” hoping that it would be enough.

Of course it’d never be that easy.

“Why in the world would you think that?” he asked, seeming even more confused now than he had been a moment ago, if such a thing was possible. “You and Fitz are, by far, the most advanced students in this class and possibly _all_ of my classes though um…don’t repeat that, alright?” He made a bit of a face at himself, then cleared his throat and continued, “Simmons, you must admit that it makes quite a bit of sense; you and Fitz are closer in intellect, thought processes, and work efficiency than you are to anyone else in the class. Truthfully, I can’t imagine that either of you would be happy with a different partner.”

She wanted to continue arguing her case, always having been rather stubborn, but Jemma knew (rather reluctantly) that Patterson was right, of course; she and Fitz were clearly the smartest cadets in their year, at the very least. There wasn’t anything that she could say that would make that any less true, and unless she wanted to tell him that she and Fitz hated each other, there wasn’t anything that she could do to change things.

Accepting defeat (something that she hated with every fiber of her being), Jemma released a weary sigh and said grudgingly, “Alright, thank you, sir,” and turned to leave the room. However, she was startled to find Fitz himself lingering by the door, just a few feet behind her.

He took one look at her, then quickly and silently slipped out of the room, and Jemma felt a white hot rush of guilt wash through her, wondering worriedly if he’d overheard her protests at their assignment as partners. Fearing this, she hurried out of the room in an attempt to follow him and explain, though she wasn’t really sure _how_ she was going to do that – all she knew was that she couldn’t let him go without trying.

However, just one step into the hall and a hasty glance around the now mostly empty hallway showed that he was already long gone, subsequently crushing her with the realization, and –

And what did it _matter_? Fitz had probably been waiting around to tell Patterson the same exact thing and make the exact same request! Really, he’d likely just left after hearing that her protests hadn’t swayed their teacher, not wanting to waste his breath making the same attempt.

Though Jemma was now sure that was the only reason behind Fitz’s speedy departure, it still didn’t quite make the guilt lying thick and heavy and immovable in her chest go away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, this is a hundred years late. However, I'm starting another Summer of Writing, so expect this to be updated far more frequently, and hopefully finished sometime soon - hope everyone's still as excited about it was they were last year!
> 
> Also, I know nothing of The Science, only what Google told me. Just go with it, okay?

As per usual, Jemma arrived to chemistry class early, finding only a few of her other classmates already milling around the classroom. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the lab bench that she now shared with Fitz, situated off to the left of the room and in one of the middle rows.

Upon finding it still empty, she breathed a sigh of relief and fully entered the room, striding toward it purposefully. Perching on her stool, she got settled, placing her textbook and notebook on the table and tucking her bag beneath the bench.

Jemma and Fitz had only been lab partners for a couple of weeks now, and she’d come to find out that she enjoyed the few minutes that she had alone at the table before he arrived, and they then spent the whole period sitting there awkwardly next to each other and in absolute silence.

She had no clue if it was because he’d overheard her talking to Patterson about changing lab partners or something else, but he seemed somehow even _tenser_ around her now. He would sit beside her with his back ramrod straight and his stool situated as far from hers as possible, as though he was afraid to breathe the same air as her or something.

Truly, Jemma tried not to, but she just couldn’t help but take it so _personally_ that Fitz didn’t want to talk to her, to look at her, to even _acknowledge_ her. Sure, she understood that he was competing with her for top of the class, and to stand out amongst their peers, but that didn’t mean that he had to be so _cold_ to her all the time.

It had been months now since they’d first met, and she liked to think that she was over one single person at the Academy not liking her, but she had to admit that simply wasn’t; whether she was worrying about when _Fitz_ was going to get to class, or if she was trying to calculate about how quickly _Fitz_ was going to finish his test, or if she trying to figure out why _Fitz_ didn’t like her, it seemed that her thoughts were always revolving around him.

And, well, truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she was more frustrated or exasperated by that fact.

So, she’d been doing her best to try and consciously not focus as much on her rival, and instead pour all of that focus into her homework and class work – though, admittedly, it was a bit difficult to do so when said rival was her chemistry partner.  

She would’ve thought that having a lab partner that refused to speak to her would make doing joint experiments altogether impossible (and maybe, hoped that Patterson would notice it and give her a new one), but somehow, they’d managed to perfectly complete each assignment they were given, working together effortlessly in silence. He would pass her the tool or chemical that she was about to ask for before the words could ever leave her mouth (which still surprised her, every single time), and he didn’t even question her math like she’d thought that he might, just to be obnoxious – he just _accepted_ it.

In some ways, Fitz actually _was_ the perfect partner for her, and Jemma hated the very idea of that.

The sound of the stool beside her scraping along the floor as it was pulled out had Jemma glancing up automatically, just in time to see Fitz dropping down onto it. He never once met her gaze or said a word to her (not that she expected him to), he just planted his clasped hands on the tabletop and stared blankly down at them as he waited for the class to begin.

She noticed him twiddling his thumbs absently, could hear the soles of his ratty old trainers tapping anxiously against the metal rung on his stool. She almost, _almost_ said something, just to break the tension, but she caught herself just in time (and it isn’t the first time either; it happened every single time that there was an especially awkward silence hanging between them), and fortunately, Patterson rushed into the classroom then, apologizing for his lateness, and saved her from another chance to get shot down yet again.

\--

Though Fitz felt a bit badly about it, he tuned out Patterson’s voice as he began the day’s lesson, and instead spent the class period as he had each of the previous ones; thinking up and dismissing potential topics to discuss with Simmons from the long list of them currently scrolling through his brain.

Each time, he was sure that he’d found something that he knew enough about to appear impressive to Simmons so that they could finally strike up a conversation– for about a minute. Then, he would always be struck by the horrifying thought of, “ _but what if she knows more about it than I do?_ ” and he would then immediately drop it to move onto the next one, only to repeat the process again and again.

He’d managed to hear in passing that Simmons’s specialty was in the biochemical field, so he’d made a mental note to stay far away from anything in that area – he _would_ try to bring up something to with engineering, but he couldn’t help the fear tickling at the back of his mind that she’d somehow taken an engineering elective before or something and already knew everything that he could potentially say.

Fitz had no how vast her intellect was, after all, but from what he’d witnessed so far, it had no limits.

However, Fitz was also aware of the fact that he was running out of time to find the perfect thing to say to her; she’d already no doubt labeled him as someone not on her level, and instead found some equally as brilliant upperclassmen to hang around with.

He could still remember clearly the day that he and Simmons had first been paired up as lab partners, when he’d managed to build up his confidence enough to wait for her after class. He’d spent the rest of the period telling himself over and over that if he was going to be partnered with her, then he was going to have to speak to her _sometime_ , so he might as well just get it over with already.

But, then he’d overheard her asking Patterson for a different partner, and upon fleeing from making the situation even _more_ embarrassing for himself, he’d almost given up completely on trying to talk to her. After all, he’d been sure then that nothing he could say would be able to change her mind, not if she already thought that he was some sort of idiot that simply wasn’t worth her time.

Then, he’d shown up for class the next week and sat down next to her, and she’d smiled shyly at him and passed him his copy of their worksheet, and though she hadn’t said much, she’d still worked with him without a single complaint that he was dumb, or said anything about wanting a smarter lab partner.

And so, Fitz had subsequently decided to keep trying, bolstered by the idea that she didn’t seem to be dismissing him _quite_ yet.

It had, though, definitely served to increase his panicked efforts to find that perfect thing to say to her. He’d had several chances during their joint experiments, of course. Every single time, though, he’d chickened out, talked himself out of even trying, and convinced himself that there was something better that he just hadn’t thought of yet.

He was going to have to find it soon, though – despite how well they worked together without speaking, Fitz had noticed the strange, bemused looks that Patterson had been shooting their way every time that he seemed to notice that they weren’t discussing anything as they did it.

In fact, he imagined that it was only a matter of time before he intervened and _made_ Fitz talk to Simmons, taking away any chance that he had at that elusive, perfect first impression.

\--

Jemma hopefully eyed on the clock on the far wall of the classroom, her shoulders slumping when she realized that there was still a good fifteen minutes of the class period left. She and Fitz had been done with their assigned work for the day for quite some time by then, and with all of her homework for her other classes finished and ready to be handed in, she didn’t have much else to do to pass the time.

With nothing else in mind, she’d gotten her biology text out of her bag, and had it open in front of her on the table. She’d been idly skimming through their next upcoming chapter, but she’d of course already read it through recently, so there wasn’t much else for her to do there until they actually began the unit.

Absently, Jemma began tapping the eraser at the end of her pencil against the book, thinking woefully that this was one of the only problems with being so advanced, and so far ahead of her classmates. She couldn’t even count how many days that she’d spent bored in classes growing up, already finished with her work and waiting for everyone else to catch up with her.

Despite herself, she wondered then if Fitz (a fellow prodigy, from what she could tell) had ever gone though the same thing, wondered if he was one of the few people that could truly understand what it’d been like for her.

The simple thought of him seemed to cause her to automatically seek him out, and before she could think it through, she found herself peeking out of the corner of her eye at him. He was hunched over the table beside her, working on something or another, scribbling out his answers quickly and effortlessly.

Suddenly, she was curious to know what other classes he was taking at the Academy (in fact, she didn’t even know for sure what his specialty was – she’d heard around campus that he was in one of the more technical fields, but she didn’t know which one, or if what she’d heard was even correct). And so, with nothing else interesting to occupy her time, she gave into the curiosity and slowly began to shift a bit closer, craning her neck carefully to try and get a peek at what was on the paper.

And, she had just managed to identify what she thought must be physics when Fitz suddenly glanced up and caught her red-handed, spying on his work.

Letting out a tiny squeak, Jemma quickly moved back to her side of the table, her face absolutely burning in her embarrassment. He’d stopped writing, and was just _staring_ at her, his eyebrows high on his forehead and his lips parted slightly, and she searched desperately for something to say, some excuse for her actions, or a distraction of some sort from what had just happened.

However, when she cleared her throat and finally spoke, what came out was, “Um, so…physics?”

\--

Fitz had no idea _what_ to do – minutes ago, he’d been doing his physics homework (it was his next class for the day, and he’d forgotten all about it being due until just then), half-focusing on answering the relatively easy questions, and half-focusing on his list of possible conversation starters. He’d just rejected several more possibilities, and was despairing, as per usual, in the very real chance that he might never be able to secure Jemma Simmons as an acquaintance (and possibly, hopefully, a friend), when he’d caught a whiff of something undeniably flowery.

Confused, he’d glanced up, and found Simmons herself leaning in far closer to him than she usually was, peering at his physics homework curiously. He’d been caught off-guard at the sight, and before he could figure out what to do about the unusual occurrence, she’d noticed that _he’d_ noticed.

Simmons had been visibly embarrassed by being caught, and had hastily moved back over to her side of the lab bench, and he’d _tried_ , but Fitz just hadn’t been able to stop himself from gaping at her, still trying to catch up and figure out what the heck had just happened.

However, all he could really seem to think about was how nice what he thought had to be her shampoo had smelled, and what flower exactly it was supposed to smell like (not that he was great with types of flowers – he really only knew the basics, and what had been in his mum’s garden back home).

So, when she’d asked him about physics, he’d once more been caught utterly off-guard, and dropped his wide-eyed gaze from her, to his homework, and back. She was just sort of…staring back at him, as though waiting for…for _something_ , and he knew he had to say _something_ , but everything from his list had abruptly disappeared from his mind the moment that he’d noticed her so close to him.

Beginning to feel sweat breaking along his hairline, his hands starting to shake slightly with nerves, Fitz finally blurted out, “S’about dielectrics. Y’know, how they’re polarized when an electrical field is applied, and dielectric polarization occurs, sending positive and negative charges in different directions. Pretty simple stuff if you ask me, but…year’s just beginning, I suppose.”

It was not at _all_ what he’d planned on saying, not in a million years, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to smack himself, because she was still just _staring at him_. Though, now she looked slightly shocked, which was _never_ a good thing, and he wondered miserably if he’d just made a grievous error and lost any chance at getting to know Jemma Simmons.

But then, to his complete amazement, Simmons’s whole face seemed to light up at once, her eyes shining with it, and Fitz felt as though his lungs had suddenly forgotten how to work properly. And then, even _more_ amazingly, she scooted her stool closer until her shoulder was just brushing his, nodded at his homework, and said some of the most incredible words that he’d ever heard, “Can I see?”


	6. Chapter 6

Though she could scarcely believe it, Jemma had just spent the past fifteen minutes talking to _Fitz_ of all people, who had apparently decided to stop hating her and competing with her (for today, at least), and instead actually _talk_ to her – and it had been _wonderful_.

Jemma had never had such an intelligent conversation before, let alone one with someone _her_ age, and she had never before felt that someone was truly understanding what she was speaking about, or had them actually be _excited_ about it in return. It was everything that she had so desperately wanted when she’d first glimpsed Fitz in class weeks ago, and it was everything that she’d thought that she would never find in him once she’d realized that he didn’t want to be her friend.

Now, she could hardly believe that she’d been waiting impatiently for class to be over not long ago, because as the bell gave a sharp ring that echoed throughout their chemistry classroom, she felt that it was simply far too soon. She didn’t want the class period to be over yet; she didn’t want to have to stop talking to Fitz.

They were both lingering by their lab table longer than strictly necessary, slowly gathering their things as they continued their conversation about the other classes that they were taking (Jemma had found out about ten minutes ago that he was an engineering major, which she found terribly interesting).

“The only one that I could go without is History of SHIELD,” Fitz was saying as he stuffed his books back into his backpack, “it’s too bad that it’s required to graduate.” Then, he smiled slightly and shrugged, going on, “Ah, well, at least it’s nice to have some time to nap.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him as she gathered her own books and placed them in her backpack, making sure that they were in the correct order, corresponding with her classes that day. “Well, I happen to find it interesting.” When he arched an eyebrow at her in clear disbelief, she elaborated, “The subject matter, that is. The class would be far better if it wasn’t for Professor Vaughn’s droning voice.”

Fitz burst into laughter at that, and Jemma couldn’t help but join him, feeling warmth spreading through her chest at having made him laugh – it was a sound she hadn’t heard in the time that they’d been classmates, but it was one that she was quite sure she’d like to hear again. He slung his backpack over his shoulder then, following her as she led the way out of the classroom.

Pausing just outside the door, they hovered in the hallway, their laughter fading as they began to shift a bit awkwardly, not quite meeting the other’s eyes. Clearing her throat lightly, Jemma asked him, “So…what class do you have next?”

“Oh, uh, physics,” Fitz answered, thumbing over his shoulder at the classroom that they’d just exited, “s’why I was doing my homework. How, um…how about you?”

Jemma bit back her instinctive reprimand about leaving his homework until the day of, not wanting to scare him off now that he was actually acknowledging that she existed. Instead, she simply told him, “I have molecular biology.”

He nodded in understanding, then glanced up and down the rapidly emptying hall around them and started, “Well, um…”

Afraid that he was just going to leave, and things would go back to how they had been before that day, Jemma quickly blurted out, “Will I see you at lunch?”

Fitz looked slightly startled at the question, and she began to fear that she’d pushed too far, but then he blinked and said softly, a strange, almost…breathless quality to his voice, “Yeah, um, yeah…you will.”

“Good,” she replied, offering him a warm smile before she took a half-step back, in the direction of her molecular bio classroom. Though, for the first time, she found that she wasn’t eager to get to a class, and instead, simply wanted to stay there, talking to Fitz all day. But, she forced herself to say, “See you then,” waiting for his confirmation before she turned and hurried off to class before the period began.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in her seat and waiting for the professor to begin the day’s lesson, and she noticed one of the other cadets giving her a strange look, that she realized that there was a huge smile plastered on her face, large enough that her cheeks were aching with it.

But, strangely, she just couldn’t seem to wipe it from her face.

\--

Fitz spent most of his next period in a daze, unable to believe that he’d finally talked to Jemma Simmons, and that it had gone so… _successfully_. He still didn’t know quite how he’d managed it, and was still somewhat surprised that the answer to the seemingly impossible question of what would impress her had always been his physics homework – but, he wasn’t about to complain.

They’d talked for a little while about his homework specifically, then she’d asked him about his major, and he’d asked her what hers was (even though he’d already known – he hadn’t been about to tell _her_ that), and then they’d started talking about their other classes.

It had been all that they’d had time for unfortunately, though it hadn’t felt _nearly_ long enough to Fitz, but then she’d asked him about having _lunch_ together, much to his complete shock. After all, that meant that she wanted to keep talking to him, _by choice_.

Now, he was watching the clock, waiting until the bell rang to announce the end of the period, and so that the lunch period would begin. And, so that he could talk to Simmons some more.

Though he’d heard her answering questions and talking in class, it didn’t really compare to actually having a conversation with her, he’d come to realize; somehow, she was even more brilliant and…and _vibrant_ in a one-on-one conversation. He found absolutely everything about her fascinating, and he could only hope to have the privilege to find out more and more, to be able to get to know her better.

Finally, after what like ages, the bell rang, and Fitz had to force himself not to run to the cafeteria – though, he still ended up struggling not to appear as if his trousers were on fire or something. The building that his physics class was in was a bit of a walk from the cafeteria, but once he arrived there, he got his lunch and paused at the front of the expansive room.

It was crowded, as it usually was at this time of the day, but Fitz finally spotted Simmons when she waved a hand at him from one of the smaller tables toward the back of the cafeteria. He immediately made a beeline toward her, setting his tray down on the table and taking the seat across from her.

Dropping his backpack onto the floor by his feet, he was taken aback by how nice it felt to actually have someone to sit with at lunch, having spent every other lunch period just sitting by himself, usually doing homework or catching up on recent science journals.

“Hey,” he greeted her a bit shyly, offering her a small smile.

Simmons’s answering smile was wide, and it had his own growing in response. “Hi Fitz,” she replied. “How was your class?”

He didn’t exactly want to admit to her that he hadn’t really been paying attention because he’d been thinking about her, so he simply said, “Um…good. Yours?”

“Oh, really good!” she answered, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she set her fork down, as though preparing herself for a long story. She began explaining to him about how they’d talking about a subject in class that she’d studied in one of her bio courses back at Oxford, so she’d been able to contribute quite a bit to the discussion. “And,” she added, “Professor Valdez appeared to be rather impressed with my knowledge on the subject.”

“Oh, so you went to Oxford, then?” Fitz asked, desperately curious to know more about her. Other than the fact that she was an English biochem major that could show just about anyone there up with her intelligence, she was a complete blank to him.

Simmons nodded, furrowing her brow as she asked curiously, “I didn’t mention that?” When he shook his head in response, she went on, “Well then, yes, I got my degrees at Oxford.”

Fitz felt his eyebrows dart up his forehead at the same moment that he nearly choked on his sandwich. Simmons looked startled as he began coughing, but he quickly waved away her concern, taking a sip of from his bottle of water before he repeated in disbelief, “ _Degrees_? As in _plural_?”

She flushed a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded, explaining, “I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever, and when I wasn’t able to decide between biology and chemistry, I ended up just going for one in each field.” She paused, then asked, “Where did you go to school?”

Not answering her question at first, and taking a moment to compose himself enough to actually be _able_ to answer, Fitz suddenly came to the realization that Simmons was even more of a force of nature than he’d previously thought.

And, he found that equal parts terrifying and incredible.

\--

Jemma watched curiously as Fitz stared silently down at the table, furrowing her brow in bemusement as she took a couple bites of her salad while she was waiting. For a moment, she was concerned that she’d made him feel bad about the fact that she had two degrees, given his obvious shock, and she had the sinking feeling that she’d pushed someone else away with her vast intellect and thirst for knowledge.

But, then, Fitz cleared his throat and glanced up to meet her gaze, finally answering, “I, um, I went to MIT,” and he didn’t seem upset with or wary of her, much to Jemma’s relief.

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” she told him, her eyes widening in excitement, both at the mention of his alma mater, and at the fact that he didn’t seem to be shying away from her. “I’d actually looked into going to MIT and taking some extra courses at Harvard, but Oxford won out for me in the end.”

“Yeah, well, Oxford’s pretty great too,” he replied with a nod. As he then took a bite of his sandwich, Jemma eyed him for a moment, wondering if she could finally ask him something that she’d been desperate to since that first day. She wondered if she could finally found out if he was one of the few people in the world that could truly understand what she’d been through.

Making a decision, she then asked, trying to keep most of the overwhelming curiosity from her voice, “Did everyone there look at you strangely too? For being so young?”

Much to her utter relief, Fitz immediately nodded emphatically, replying, “Like I was some sort of unknown species that they were studying or something.”

“Yes, exactly!” Jemma let out an incredulous little laugh, unable to believe that he understood so effortlessly, that he’d experienced the same thing that she had, and that they could relate to each other about it.

“Didn’t help too that I was a skinny, knobby-kneed kid in a classroom filled with a bunch of adults,” he added, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and making a face.

“I completely understand,” Jemma assured him, nodding firmly. “It was the absolute worst, not having anyone else around that was my age. Everybody else at Oxford was always off partying on the weekends, or going off campus to bars and clubs. I ended up spending most of my time in the library, or the lab.”

Fitz smiled wryly and told her, “I spent most of my time hiding myself away in the mechanics lab until they closed for the night, then I’d go straight back to my dorm room.”

“That’s why I was so looking forward to coming to the Academy,” she explained, “I was hoping to find more people around my age, but, well…you’re the only one here.” She paused, briefly, then asked something else that had been on her mind since she’d first laid eyes on him, “How, um, how old are you, exactly?”

Fitz shrugged his shoulders until they were up by his ears, answering lowly, “I, uh…turned sixteen back in August.”

Jemma was quite sure that her eyes lit up then, as she felt excitement burst inside of her, and it was all that she could do to stop herself from jumping straight out of her chair. “I turned sixteen in September!”

He was obviously caught off-guard by this, glancing up at her with wide, startled eyes, his mouth dropping open slightly. “You…really? You’re sixteen?”

She nodded eagerly, feeling that bright, beaming smile spreading across her face for the second time that day. “Yes! Oh Fitz, this is so exciting! Can you imagine, two people of the same age with the same experiences and passions in life, meeting each other by pure circumstance? I mean, of all the people for SHIELD to recruit this year, they recruited _us_.”

Jemma wasn’t a strong believer in anything resembling fate, but this situation sure tested that; after all, what else could’ve put her and Fitz, one of the few people in the world who could truly relate to her, in the same place at the same time?

\--

Fitz tried his very best not to, but he ended up staring at Simmons in open-mouthed astonishment for an uncomfortably long moment. She just seemed so _happy_ to find out that he was the same age as her, to be talking to him, and he…well, he felt as though he had to be the luckiest person at the Academy, possibly even in the world.

Jemma Simmons, holder of two degrees and the smartest person that he’d ever met, was delighted to be speaking to _him_? It was practically unbelievable, and Fitz was half-convinced that he’d just dreamed this whole day up, and was going to go to chem class tomorrow to find that he hadn’t actually spoken to her at all yet.

But, this all felt far too _real_ to be a dream, his awe at everything about her too poignant, and his embarrassment at realizing that he was still staring at her far too sharp to be anything but reality.

Finally, after spending what had to have been an inordinate amount of time just gaping at her, Fitz managed to compose himself enough to reply, “Yeah, it’s…pretty incredible.”

Simmons was still gazing at him with that same, slightly disbelieving smile that she’d been wearing for the past few minutes. He was also able to pick out the wonder and excitement in her expression, and it had the oddest effect on his chest, tightening it until it felt as though his lungs didn’t quite have the room to expand far enough anymore.

“Fitz…” she started then, her voice soft, and Fitz leaned in a bit in response, nodding to tell her wordlessly to go on.

But, then the shrill cry of the bell ringing cut through the room, causing them both to jump in surprise. Fitz threw a glance down at the watch on his wrist, unable to believe that a whole half an hour had passed already; it felt as though time went by so quickly when he was in her presence, when he was speaking to her.

Truthfully, though, he was beginning to think that he could never spend enough time with Simmons, that it would never be enough to know everything that he wanted to about her, to soak up her brilliance, to just simply _talk_ to her.

“ _Oh_!” Simmons hastily stood from her chair, grabbing her backpack and picking up her half-emptied tray from the table. “I hadn’t even realized it was so late!”

“Neither did I,” Fitz admitted, throwing his backpack over his shoulders and grabbing his tray to follow her to the front of the room to drop them back off at the kitchen. She then led the way out of the cafeteria, and as they stepped into the late November chill, they paused just outside the door.

He wanted to ask if they could have lunch together again tomorrow, he wanted to ask if they could study together, or just…spend more time together, but he didn’t want to push his already amazing success for the day, so he kept the words to himself.

However, Simmons, who was now hugging her arms around herself to keep out the cold, her breath leaving her lips in a little cloud, asked hesitantly, “Would you…that is, what, um, about tomorrow? For lunch?”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose, and he gestured to himself rather dumbly, asking, “With me?”

A little smile curved her lips, and she nodded, murmuring, “Yes Fitz, with you.”

“Yeah, um, that would – great,” he said, his words becoming horribly jumbled and awkward in his surprise.

“Alright, then…good,” Simmons replied, briefly biting her bottom lip as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, something that Fitz had noticed that she did rather often, as though she wasn’t sure what else to do with her hands. “I’ll…see you then, I guess?”

Fitz nodded quickly, agreeing, “Yeah. See you then, Simmons.”

She hesitated, but then she gave him one last smile and turned on her heel, heading back toward the building that their chemistry class was in, and that most of her other classes were no doubt in as well. As Fitz watched her walk away, he let out a long breath that came out in a light wisp in the cold that he no longer felt, warmth spreading throughout his entire body instead.

Briefly, he dropped back against the brick wall of the cafeteria building, simultaneously unable to believe that he’d spent so much time that day talking to Simmons without somehow making a fool of himself (or, well, _too much_ of a fool of himself, at least), and unable to believe that he wouldn’t be able to see her again until tomorrow.

What he _did_ fully believe, however, was that his time at the Academy was suddenly really looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


End file.
